


God with a Crush

by RatOuttaHell



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: M/M, be careful what you wish for lol, conflicted feelings, post-game trauma, um i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatOuttaHell/pseuds/RatOuttaHell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joshua comes back to visit Neku and company six months after the game has ended. Hi-jinks ensue. It's not as fun as it sounds. ((revised version of my fic with the same name on ff.net))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Puppy-Love Saved Shibuya (Sorta)

**Author's Note:**

> this is something that I think I started working on the summer after my freshman year of college! I had a burning idea for the first chapter and then, as usual, didn't have any idea where I wanted to go from there. about a year and five more chapters later, I completed my first ever chaptered fanfiction with a much fluffier ending than I had predicted. now I'm polishing it up and putting it here! I predict it'll take me much less than a year this time to publish the whole thing, since I'm only editing and revising some, as opposed to coming up with new plot entirely. feel free to sit on the edge of your seat waiting for updates. 
> 
> more importantly, here are some TWs for this chapter: alcohol mentions, possible PTSD, mentions of theoretical underage (but no actual underage). I think that's it for the first chapter, though! enjoy yourselves!

Neku Sakuraba sighed and casually leaned his shoulder against the statue of Hachiko, his hair standing out bright and orange in contrast to the austere bronze the dog had been sculpted from. Beside him, Shiki Misaki checked her cell phone and pretended not to notice that her friend had gone speechless. He would talk when he was ready; Shiki knew from repeated experience that rushing him would only make him more reluctant to say what he had to say. Besides, she thought with a tiny smile she tried to keep concealed, she was pretty sure she knew which subject the conversation would turn to once he spoke. It was better just to wait out the silence.

“I just still feel like he’s watching me, you know?” said Neku finally. Shiki dropped her head even further towards the screen of her phone, her secret smile spreading wider. Neku didn't even have to say who he was talking about for her to know. Because who else would it be? “Even though he hasn’t showed up, I feel like he’s not gone. It's kind of...” Shiki waited for Neku to finish his sentence, “...creepy.” Shiki wanted very, very badly to call Neku's bluff on that descriptor – it wasn't _really_ how he felt, after all – but instead simply looked up from her cell phone and pushed her glasses a little higher on her nose.

“Well, that’s probably because he’s not gone,” she said knowingly.

“What do you mean?” asked Neku. He seemed startled, like he hadn't been expecting that answer.

“I mean, he probably _is_ watching you,” said Shiki. When Neku's expression still read blank, she sighed and flipped her phone shut. “From what you’ve told me, it kind of sounds like Joshua… you know… _liked_ you.” Neku scowled, and Shiki shook her head, almost disappointed with his obliviousness, and began to count off the evidence on her fingers. “He picked you specially out of everyone in Shibuya, he took a bullet for you, and a lot of the things that you told me he said to you… well, Neku, they sounded a lot like _flirting_.”

“Please,” said Neku, folding his arms across his chest, his scowl still firmly in place. “I was his proxy. He didn’t like me, he was using me.”

“To destroy Shibuya, right?” asked Shiki. Neku nodded. “And guess what he didn’t do, even though you helped him win his game.”

“Only you would take that to mean that he…” Neku struggled with the words, and Shiki's lips twitched in spite of her best efforts. “Had a crush on me or something.”

“You changed his mind about humanity!” said Shiki, the smile growing over her face, her self‑control completely broken now. “He was going to give up, and then you changed something in him. It’s the plot-line to all the best romantic movies. And why are you trying to deny it, anyway? A _god_ has a crush on you. Shouldn’t you be flattered?”

“There are so many things wrong with that logic,” replied Neku dryly. But when he looked up into the sky this time, he couldn’t keep his lips from curling the slightest bit upwards. He wasn’t even sure _why_ he wanted to see the Composer again. Not only had the guy killed him, he had also used him as a pawn in a game to destroy Shibuya and made his life… er, death a lot more difficult. Still, there was some (infuriating) part of him that caught glimpses of Joshua in the silvery bleached-blonde hair of the girl who sat next to him in Japanese, or when he passed one of the thousand people wearing black skinny jeans in the Scramble. He would be thrown off guard, and it always took him a moment to regain his composure and get back to what he had been doing before.

“Are Rhyme and Beat ever getting here?” asked Neku, trying to throw Shiki off this line of conversation. He could feel heat that was entirely unrelated to the unobstructed sunlight beginning to warm his face.

“Oh, right,” said Shiki. She pulled her phone back out of her pocket and flipped it open. “Beat texted me a few minutes ago. Rhyme’s got a cold, and he’s home taking care of her.” She held out the phone to Neku as evidence, as though he wouldn’t believe her otherwise.

“So, we’re still here because?” asked Neku.

“Because you were busy talking about your not-so-secret admirer,” said Shiki, holding a hand to her face in a gesture that in no way concealed her giggling. Neku shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts and headed away from the statue, Shiki at his side.

“Took a bullet for me,” he mumbled. “Yeah, right. After he put one in my chest.”

“Oh, Neku,” sighed Shiki. “You’re still so _cynical_. Didn’t the game teach you anything? You’ve got to trust your partner.” Neku wanted to ask whether she meant for him to trust her, or Joshua, but he didn’t know if he would like the answer, so he kept quiet for a few seconds. Shiki took that to mean she'd won; she walked with the kind of spring in her step that came from being right.

“And speaking of things that haven’t changed,” she said. “Do you have any pants that aren’t falling apart? I think my next project with Eri is going to have to be redesigning your wardrobe. What’s your size?” Neku looked around, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that this was where he and Shiki had to part, anyway. Not that Shiki and Eri were anything less than a force to be reckoned with when it came to design, but Neku liked his clothes. That was why he wore them, and why they were falling apart in the first place. Besides, he’d only ever seen their work for more feminine tastes before, and he wasn’t sure how that would translate over to him.

“Gotta go,” he said, holding up a hand to wave goodbye and block out Shiki's request at the same time. “See you later, Shiki.”

“Don’t think this gets you home free,” said Shiki. She grinned cheerfully and waved before turning around, revealing Mr. Mew strapped to her back like a knapsack. A smile ghosted over Neku’s face for a brief second. He walked back home alone, unsure of whether he wanted Shiki to be wrong about Joshua, or totally right.

 

* * *

 

 

It was one in the morning when Sanae Hanekoma felt the Composer roll out his arms. His weight shifted off the bed, leaving an empty spot where his warm body had lain just seconds before. Hanekoma opened his eyes to see Joshua standing by the window, his back turned to the darkened room. He stood at his preferred height – just a little taller than Hanekoma, and don't think the barista didn't notice – and even though he had turned his vibe down significantly, the moonlight enhanced his slight, godly glow. The Composer gently flattened a palm against the cool glass of the window. Hanekoma let out a sigh. Joshua's sleep had been fitful recently, full of stops and starts, and when he was awake there was something almost wistful about him. Something almost broken.

Hanekoma rolled out of bed and walked to Joshua’s side. From the side, he could see that Joshua’s forehead was tipped to meet the glass, like the window pane was the only thing holding him up. His light violet eyes gazed somewhere distant, expressionless in the forlorn sort of way they had been in the final months before Joshua had decided to scrap Shibuya. Hanekoma placed a steadying hand on his back.

“What’s the matter, Josh?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Joshua flatly. “Go back to bed, Sanae.” Neither of them made any move to leave, and Hanekoma put his head on Joshua’s shoulder, his arms around the Composer’s waist.

“You know you don’t have to lie to me,” he said.

“Maybe I want to,” said the Composer, holding that cool, even tone. It wasn’t exactly unlike Joshua to hold information, even from those he was closest to. Sometimes he had a reason for it. Sometimes he was just in a mood. But for some reason, this time it felt different. He wasn’t wrapped up in some capricious mood, he was miles away from where they stood together. Hanekoma had sensed the distance for weeks and hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, even to himself. There was this sick emptiness in the depths of his chest, this terrible knowledge at what was happening. He wasn't enough for Joshua anymore, and he knew it, even if the Composer in question didn't. The corners of his mouth turning down, Hanekoma unwrapped his arms from Joshua’s body, moved so that he was standing next to him.

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he said. Joshua laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that fell flat as soon as it hit Hanekoma’s ears.

“And what are you going to do about it?” asked Joshua, the false laughter already fading from his voice. It had started to rain, and he traced the path of a single raindrop down the windowpane with a long, pale finger. He leaned his right shoulder against the glass, angling his body in such a way that the droplets trickling down looked almost like they could be his tears. Which would have made sense, Hanekoma supposed, for a god.

“Nothing,” he replied. Then he asked: “What are you thinking?” Joshua’s lips parted slightly, like he just might decide to tell Hanekoma everything, every strange and distant thought that was running through his head, like it would all rush out before he could stop it. In the end, he just closed them again, the floodgates protecting his silence, and turned his eyes back to the rivers the raindrops made as they trailed down the glass. After another moment of silent contemplation, he opened his mouth again.

“People move on so quickly, don’t they?” he mused. Hanekoma smiled to himself. Now where had that come from?

“I think that they would beg to differ,” he said.

“Their memories fade,” continued Joshua, disregarding Hanekoma’s statement. “They move on. It’s not so easy for us.” Something cold hit the bottom of Hanekoma’s stomach; suddenly Joshua’s thought process didn’t seem so enigmatic.

“Oh,” he said. “So this is about Phones.” Joshua didn’t answer. But he didn’t meet Hanekoma’s eyes, either, and that was just as good as a verbal response. “You can’t get over him. I get it.” Hanekoma knew that it would annoy the Composer, but if he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that he was a little annoyed, himself. Neku Sakuraba, the kid with the big headphones, the child who idolized _his_ art, was the reason Joshua was moving further and further away from him? He didn’t like the thought, and he liked the feeling of jealousy creeping up around his ribs even less.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Joshua. But there was something in his cross expression that told Hanekoma that he was completely on the mark. Hanekoma exhaled, shook his head in a silent moment of self-pity. His god was often a cruel god. It didn’t help to know that, this time, he didn’t mean to be cruel. “He’s fifteen. And human.”

“So were you,” said Hanekoma. “When you met him.”

“Only in appearance,” said Joshua.

“Don’t fool yourself,” said Hanekoma. Joshua’s from deepened. “Just because you look all godly now. You were human once, and fifteen years old. You were fifteen again when you met him, and you took to it pretty well, if I'm being perfectly honest.” Joshua looked like he wanted to dispute that claim, so Hanekoma plowed onwards before he could get the words together. “Being the Composer and everything… well, you grew up fast. You know what they say: never a child, always a child.” The slightest hint of a smirk pulled at Joshua’s lips.

“Fine, then,” he said. “In that case, you’re the one having sex with a fifteen-year-old.” The comment made Hanekoma squirm a little bit in spite of his best intentions, and for just a second he wished that Joshua were covered up. He had already discussed with the Composer one of his few rules in what passed for a relationship between the two of them: it was absolutely _off_ whenever he took the shape of anyone younger than absolutely adult. Hanekoma outright refused touch Joshua when he took his teenage form – the idea of putting his hands on Joshua in that state made him feel dirty past his skin and into his very core in a way that he highly disliked.

“Come on, Josh, you know that’s not what I meant,” he said, backtracking away from that mess as quickly as he could. “When it comes to you, age is a lot more complicated than a number, that’s all.”

“It’s not for him,” said Joshua. He put his head to Hanekoma’s chest in an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Some twisted part of Hanekoma wanted this weakness, wanted to foster it and bring it out whenever he felt Joshua slipping away from him. He knew that he had the power to do it, too. But with their flesh so close together, he could feel that he wasn’t the one the Composer was weak for. It was that skinny kid he'd watched over for three weeks, and ever since then, too. Besides, Hanekoma knew that was supposed to use his power to equalize things, to set them as they should be, and not to tug the area’s Composer back into his arms. Joshua probably never should have been there to begin with.

“If you wanted to see him,” he said carefully. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Because what I was looking for was _your_ approval,” said Joshua, never lifting his head. “I have a job to do, Sanae, and it’s not as easy as you might think to get someone to stand in as god.” In spite of the serious conversation surrounding him, Hanekoma let out a chuckle.

“I’m sure we could arrange something,” he said.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to do the job,” mumbled Joshua.

“You’ve already got that answer,” replied Hanekoma. “Never, in a million years, for all the money in the world, would I want to be the Composer. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t some sap out there who could make it through a few days in charge without wrecking the entire UG.” Joshua looked up at Hanekoma, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide and Hanekoma wanted so badly to take it back, to say it would never work and to pull Joshua back into the comforter.

“Why are you doing this for me?” asked Joshua softly, and it took Hanekoma a moment or two of puzzling to figure out the reason for himself. The arguments against helping Joshua with this were clear: he was the Composer, it would be irresponsible for him to leave his post because of something that closely resembled puppy love, and, perhaps most importantly, Hanekoma was none too keen on sharing Joshua with others. Yet here Hanekoma was, about to help him go off chasing some fifteen-year-old who was just getting over a serious attitude problem.

“Well,” said Hanekoma. “You were starting to look bored. And no one likes what happens when the boss gets bored.”

 

* * *

 

 

Neku decided to take the long way home from school the next day. Since finishing The Game, his non-social tendencies had gotten a lot better, but after spending a full day with the tidal wave of teenage chatter that was school, sometimes he still liked to pull his headphones over his ears and walk alone for a while. Not that his parents would even be back from work by the time he got home; he was used to coming back to an empty apartment. With them gone so much of the time, it was no wonder he had become cut off in the first place. They weren’t too fantastic about communication when they were around, either, preferring short and business-like interactions over more drawn-out conversations. When he was with them, Neku tended to spend a lot of time reminding himself that they loved him, and that he loved them, too, and that in the end, they were still his family. After getting out of The Game alive, he had realized that he didn’t take the time appreciate his parents much, and he had promised himself upon his return that he wouldn’t let that happen again.

Almost losing everything really made you realize how much there was to lose. After all, it wasn’t just Neku’s life that had been at stake, it was also the whole of Shibuya – his parents and the neighborhood cats and the streets he passed through every day. Blasting Def Märch into his ears, Neku ran his fingers over the graffiti-covered bricks of CAT’s Udagawa tag mural. He wondered for a minute if he would be able to find the dark stain of his blood on the concrete below, but then remembered that The Game had altered reality so that his death was safely retconned out. For all RG intents and purposes, he had never been shot in the first place. Neku's first act after waking up in the Scramble and realizing that he was not, in fact, about to start Week Four of Hell, was to sprint home, find his parents, and embrace them tightly. It became clear after some startled blinking and gentle questioning on his parents' part that they didn’t remember his death at all. He awkwardly played it off, saying that he’d had a rough day at school, and his parents let it go with a few strange looks.

They didn’t realize that he was ever gone, let alone that their entire world could have disappeared if not for the whim of some god. Or, if Shiki was right, if not for the crush said god had on their son. But, of course, Shiki wasn’t right.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neku caught a glimpse of a blue cotton shirt. Damn. _Here it goes again,_ he thought. Now he was going to have to rationalize with his highly irrational brain. Because plenty of people wore blue cotton shirts, and seeing Joshua everywhere couldn't be any kind of healthy at this point. Still, he couldn't keep himself from casting another sidelong glance at the figure. Just for half a second. It was the same _shade_ of blue, too, like the bottom edge of the sky on a winter day. The person was walking in Neku’s general direction, and Neku thought that he saw a shining of silver hair. Not blonde – silver. Neku cranked up the volume on his mp3 player and kept his eyes straight ahead. He was seeing things, he had to be. This person had some combination of Joshua's features and his brain was filling in the gaps.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and his stomach clenched in on itself. Barely breathing, he turned around, telling himself all the while that something must have fallen out of his school bag, someone must be trying to hand him a flyer for a shop that had just opened. But no, it wasn't that simple. It was never that simple for Neku, and the person who had tapped him on his shoulder was the same person he had been watching-not-watching out of the corner of his eye. The blue shirt and black skinny jeans could have belonged to anyone, but this person was also Joshua’s height, Joshua’s hair color, _and_ – this was the ultimate determining factor – had Joshua’s eyes. Lavender and cool, with just a glimmer of something behind them to make you feel like he was eternally and silently mocking you. The boy’s lips moved around words Neku couldn’t hear over the roar of his music, the heartbeat that somehow pulsed painfully in his throat. Carefully keeping his mouth closed, Neku slowly lowered the headphones from his ears.

“I thought you ditched those at the end of the Game,” observed the boy in front of him. His voice had this quality to it, like the words were curling upwards and all part of a joke that Neku didn't understand, and Neku couldn't deny it any longer.

“Joshua,” he said. He sounded out the syllables carefully, trying to keep his voice even, but there was a breathy quality to it that he knew betrayed his utter shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, of course,” said Joshua. Like it was so obvious. Like he hadn't been missing for months. He looked up at the tag mural. “I thought I might find you here. I remembered that you were a fan of Mr. Hanekoma’s work.” A terrible thought occurred to Neku, and he narrowed his eyes slightly as he gave Joshua a visual once-over.

“You don’t have a gun, do you?” he asked skeptically. Joshua laughed. The sound was like bubbles, like bells, and Neku's heart tried to beat its way out of his chest while his stomach threatened to implode on itself. Joshua held out his arms to display very empty long-fingered hands at the ends of his thin wrists.

“If you’re not convinced, you can search me,” he said. Neku must have still looked suspicious, or sick, or like he was about to have a heart attack and keel over, because Joshua smirked and added: “What? I can’t come back to visit my old friend and dear, dear partner?”

_But you didn’t,_ thought Neku. _I waited for you, and you didn’t show up. Not for the last six months._ He didn’t say anything, though. Joshua was there now. He didn’t need to know that Neku had been searching for him ever since the game ended, seeing him in every person who passed him on the street. It was embarrassing. Even now, his inner voice could do nothing but run like a looping recording: _Are you really here? Why didn't you come back? Are you really here? Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you, why didn't you, why did–_

“I was under the impression that you hadn’t forgiven me, Neku,” said Joshua. The smile had dropped from his face, and he suddenly sounded much older than he looked. Neku glowered at him, an accusation rising in his throat like bile.

“Did you scan me?” he demanded.

“Oh, come on, Neku. You’re so transparent,” said Joshua, shrugging his shoulders. There was that tone again. Like this was all a joke, and Neku wasn't in on it. Maybe he wasn't smart enough to get it. “I don’t have to scan you to read you.”

“Well, I haven’t forgiven you,” said Neku shortly. That much was true. What Joshua had done to him was beyond the comprehension of most people, probably even those who had been in the Game with him. Joshua had bonded with him, become close to him, only to reveal that all along Neku had been a means to an end for him. An end which, incidentally, would have involved the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. Besides all of that, Neku had been forced to fight for a life Joshua himself had ended, struggling through trial after trial that pushed him past the point of mortal terror. Even months later, Neku still sometimes woke in a cold sweat from nightmares of his friends being Erased, slipping through his fingers as he tried to grab onto them, of Shiki's dead, bloody eyes when she was possessed by the O-pin, of Joshua stepping in front of a bullet for him only to later hand him a gun and dare him to shoot. It wasn't just that Neku hadn’t forgiven Joshua; he couldn’t.

But some part of Neku had wanted desperately to see him again. He realized that it was unreasonable, the foolish desire of a teenager who had spent three horrid weeks too impressionable to shake off the relationship he and Joshua had formed during the Game, but he couldn’t help it. The six months that he had spent with Beat and Rhyme and Shiki and Eri were more precious to him than any previous part of his life, but every second he spent with this brought with it the ache of unspoken absence. They could laugh and joke and pretend that there was nothing missing, but it still felt like they were dancing around a gap, scared to death of falling in. Or at least, that was how it felt to Neku. He looked up at Joshua, who had kept silent through his consideration.

“Do you even feel sorry for what you did?” he asked. The question must not have been one Joshua anticipated – though Neku couldn't understand how – because he broke eye contact and stared down at his spotless white shoes.

“I…” he said, but his voice faltered after that word, trailed off into nothingness as a crease appeared between his ashen eyebrows. Neku couldn’t remember ever having seen him look so flustered throughout the course of the Game. Taboo Noise, near-Erasure experiences, homicidal GMs, all these the Composer could take in stride. But Neku's question was enough to throw him for a loop. Even if he wouldn't admit to feeling for his atrocities, Neku thought that Joshua's current silence might be enough of an answer for him, at least right now. He sighed.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” he asked hesitantly. Joshua looked up at him, regaining his pristine composure within seconds. The transition was rapid, fluid enough that Neku almost doubted the display of uncertainty that had preceded it.

“Of course,” said Joshua, smiling. “I look forward to exploring the Sakuraba abode.” Neku rolled his eyes but smiled back at him. It felt as though some of the residual burden that he’d been carrying around since he’d come back to life had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Come on,” he said, turning in the direction of his home. Joshua put his hands in his pockets and, looking rather pleased and maybe even the slightest bit shy, strolled alongside him. They had been walking for less than a minute when an idea struck Neku.

“Joshua,” he said. Joshua looked up at him, questioning with his eyes. “If you’re here, then who’s running the UG?” A devious smile stretched across Joshua’s lips.

“Oh, that?” he asked. “Don’t worry about it, dear; it's been taken care of.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How am I supposed to hold down the fort when you won’t do a damn thing to help?” demanded one Miss Uzuki Yashiro of her orange-haired partner, who, incidentally, seemed to be more interested in perusing the liquor shelf than cooperating with his temporary co-Composer. Kariya rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger and peered up at the glittering array of bottles over his rectangular shades.

“Huh,” he remarked, breezing past Uzuki’s complaint completely. “I never figured our Composer for a heavy drinker.” Uzuki’s hand reached up into her hair and began tugging at the short, pink strands in frustration.

“Maybe He wouldn’t have to be if some of His Reapers weren’t such uncooperative slobs!” she said, her voice coming out as something between a growl and a shriek. “The Composer trusted _us_ to keep Shibuya under control until He can come back. Don’t you care about how this reflects on us? At all?” Kariya shrugged and strode over to the foosball table.

“I think I already mentioned that I’m not looking for a promotion,” he said, twisting one of the handles with his non-lollipop hand. “You up for a round?”

“ _I’m_ trying to do my job,” said Uzuki, although she did look tempted for a just a second. Kariya released the handle and continued to familiarize himself with the Composer’s domicile.

“Suit yourself,” he said. Suddenly and silently, he dropped to the glass floor in a single motion that made Uzuki worry for a split second that he had fainted. She shot him a disapproving look that went completely unnoticed once she realized that his eyes were still open. He extended a fingertip and placed it gently against the glass. A few of the fish that circled the large, blue pond beneath the floor took an interest in the extended digit and swam over, their eyes shiny and round like hammered discs of copper, their lips extending from their faces in the expectation of some sort of food. Kariya smiled and traced his finger across the glass, whirling it a few times in loops and curlicues. Most of the fish grew bored when they realized that he had nothing to offer them, but one, a large red and white koi, followed loyally. Kariya looked up at his partner. “Do you think that we have to feed them?”

“What?” asked Uzuki flatly, her lack of inflection indicating that feeding the fish was so far below the bottom of her list of priorities that she couldn’t believe that Kariya was even mentioning it.

“The fish,” said Kariya. “Do they eat? How _would_ you feed them, if you had to? Think the Composer has some special power to get the food through the glass?”

“If He does, He didn’t pass it on to us,” said Uzuki, her brow wrinkling in concern. “He gave us the job with barely so much as a power upgrade.” Kariya pushed himself back to his feet, much to the dismay of his new koi friend, and strode over to Uzuki's side.

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he soothed. “I’m sure the Composer’s got it all worked out. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, if you actually do your job,” snapped Uzuki.

“It’ll be fine,” said Kariya, pulling down a frosted-glass bottle from one of the shelves. “Drink?”

“I’d rather stay sober for the most important job of my non-living life,” said Uzuki in a tone that suggested that Kariya might want to do the same.

“Suit yourself,” said Kariya, ignoring the tone and pouring some of the liquid into a matching frosted-glass tumbler from the bar. He capped the bottle, took swallow from his glass, and smiled. “I think this is gonna be a fun week.”

 

  
  



	2. Sharing Is Caring, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua meets the family and Neku learns some fun stuff about his new roommate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyy so hahaha yeah... in the six months or so since I posted chapter one I've defeated my last two courses, written a kickass capstone paper for fantasy lit, graduated college, fallen into a depressive/borderline nightmare state, come out of that nightmare state (well sorta), gotten a job, and started looking for apartments with my wife! so that's where I was. after this chapter I've still got like four more to go through and I'm definitely gonna post them but I think it would be disingenuous to pretend I know when that'll happen lmao. this was kind of my least favorite chapter, though, so who knows if the next will be easier!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: weird age situations because, like, joshua; more mentions of joshua/hanekoma; and past self harm/suicide. I think that's it!

“This is your apartment?” asked Joshua, eyes scanning the sparsely decorated combined living/dining room area appraisingly.

“My parents’ apartment,” corrected Neku. “But yeah, I guess it's kind of mine, too. This is where I live.” Joshua had his hand tucked under his chin, and his expression was shifting into something that wasn't entirely appealing to Neku. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” said Joshua, waving a hand. “Just, after getting to know you _so well_ ,” Neku rolled his eyes, “I didn’t expect your apartment to look so…” His gaze landed on beige, square end table with an equally bland-looking furniture catalog sitting on it. “Plain.”

“It’s not _my_ apartment,” Neku reasserted quickly, feeling as though his reputation was being attacked. “My parents don’t spend a lot of time here, and they’re the ones who decorated, not me. And you haven’t even seen my room yet.”

“I thought that it would be too forward to ask,” said Joshua in a way that made Neku's face heat up. Rather than just shake it off as an annoyance, Neku considered what Shiki had told him before. Was Joshua trying to… was that… flirting? Neku narrowed his eyes and tried to find something in Joshua’s face or posture to indicate that he wasn't just messing with him, but Joshua remained inscrutable as ever. He could have just as easily been trying to make Neku uncomfortable, and Neku didn't have a lot of experience with flirting in the first place. Unable to discern anything, Neku looked away and walked towards his bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder to check to make sure Joshua was still following him – he was, and he gave a little wave of his fingers when he caught Neku looking (Neku didn't blush, he would go to his grave on that) – before opening the door.

“That’s more like it,” said Joshua. Like Neku’s apartment was some form of entertainment that had, up until this point, failed to capture Joshua’s attention.

Neku’s room looked a mess. It was cluttered enough that his mother had deemed not to set foot in the room until it was clean… nearly two months ago. There were clothes and CDs lying in drifts and piles on the floor, the comforter was hanging off the corner of a bed that hadn’t been made for weeks, and the small wooden desk in the corner was littered with papers: homework and Neku’s sketches, the latter of which Neku wished he had hidden as soon as he saw Joshua’s gaze land on them. Too late; the Composer had the eyes of a hawk and the killer instincts to match. Joshua strode over to the desk and picked up the top sketch, a heavily inked drawing of a bird on loose leaf. Neku felt a twinge of embarrassment at how clearly derivitative his own art was of CAT's.

“Well, well, well, Neku,” said Joshua. His lips were slightly downturned as he examined the piece. “I knew you were a fan of Mr. H's work, but I never pegged you as an artist yourself.”

“Hardly,” grumbled Neku, his face heating up as he snatched the drawing away. “They’re just doodles, okay?” Ever since the Game ended, Neku was trying to be more open, he really was, but some things were just personal. The sketches – derivative as they were – felt like more than something he had created. They _were_ him, or a part of him, anyway. A part of him that was all too vulnerable. He hadn't shared them with anyone, not even Shiki. He hadn't felt ready to. And he especially didn't feel ready to open himself up like that to someone who might split him open given the chance.

“You’re so modest, too,” said Joshua, fingers skimming over the dark lines of a purple and black spider. There was a glint in his eye when he next looked up at the redhead. “Do you ever draw people, Neku?” To tell the truth, he did do figure drawings from time to time: his parents, interesting people who sat near him on the bus, other students in his classes. There were times when he started sketching almost by reflex. Sometimes that meant realizing that he'd been drawing the the back of the head of whoever happened to be sitting directly in front of him. Occasionally he even looked down to see that his hand was drawing a slim figure with silver hair and a smug smile, only to start erasing so hard he tore at the paper ten seconds later, all the while grumbling curses and insults under his breath, things like “asshole,” or “liar,” and once “backstabbing back-shooting Jesus jackass,” causing the few bystanders who picked up on it to wonder why this boy was so angry and what he had against the Christian Messiah.

“No,” he lied, but Joshua’s smirk was of the all-knowing variety. Neku almost shuddered, wondered again if his former partner was reading his thoughts. Or maybe he actually _was_ obvious enough that Joshua didn’t even need to bother. Subtlety had never been Neku’s strongest suit, and until recently, most people hadn’t paid much attention to his feelings, so he hadn’t bothered to learn how to hide them. He wasn't quite happy about the idea that he was totally transparent, and even less happy about the way Joshua seemed to stare right through him like he was made of glass sometimes.

“What a shame,” said Joshua lightly. He looked around again, eyes bouncing from band posters to scattered colored pencils to the stuffed animal Shiki had sewn him (an _actual_ pig she had dubbed Mr. Oink). “So, your chaos is limited to this one room, then?”

“I already told you,” said Neku with a shrug. “It’s my parents’ place. I can’t leave my stuff all over the house.” It looked like Joshua didn’t quite believe that. Neku wondered how long had it been since he had lived with his parents. “Fine. What’s your place look like, then?”

“Oh, you know what my place looks like,” said Joshua. “You were there, right before the end.”

“You live in the sewers?” asked Neku, wrinkling his nose at the thought. Somehow the notion of living in the a dark place full of damp and stagnant air didn’t seem compatible with Joshua’s personality. Joshua rolled his eyes, wrinkled his nose slightly and mirroring Neku's expression.

“Not there,” he said. “Before that.” Before that? The only place Neku could remember before that was…

“You live _there_?” asked Neku, picturing the rows of bottles on the walls and the glass floors with live fish swimming beneath them. Living in the sewers had definitely felt out of character for Joshua, but the place where Neku had faced down Kitaniji was flashy in a totally different way than was Joshua's style. But Joshua nodded, his arms folded, as though it should have been obvious all along. “I thought that that was Shades’ place.”

“Well, Kitaniji is gone now,” said Joshua, waving a hand carelessly, as though he hadn't seen the man in question Erased before his very eyes. “Besides, it was more of a rental, anyway. The foosball table is more suitable for a bachelor pad than the residence of the Conductor, in my opinion, but I am relieved that he left my liquor intact. For the most part, at least.”

“You drink?” asked Neku incredulously.

“I’m a little older than I look, Neku,” reminded Joshua.

“Oh,” said Neku. He had been thinking of Joshua as a snotty fifteen-year-old kid lacking in adequate adult supervision again. It occurred to him now that he had no idea how old Joshua was at all. He paused. “But if Kitaniji was living there, where did you stay while he was Conductor?”

“You make it sound as if I have no friends,” said Joshua, raising his hand to his chest in a parody of offense. “Let’s just say that I found a place to make myself perfectly comfortable. Someone of my rank has to have some connections, Neku.” A thought dawned on Neku.

“Where are you staying right now?” he asked. Joshua smiled, and Neku began to shake his head back and forth, a sick feeling wrapping around his stomach. “No, no, no. You can’t possibly be thinking… I thought you said that you had _friends_!”

“And you’re one of them,” said Joshua. Neku could've been imagining it, but Joshua's tone seemed to imply, _“Whether you like it or not.”_ Neku crossed his arms over his chest, a huffy noise escaping his mouth.

“I don’t think you can ask to stay at the home of someone you shot,” he pointed out. He thought for a second, and then added: “Twice.”

“That does sound a bit unreasonable,” agreed Joshua, placing his hand beneath his chin in contemplation. The corners of his lips turned up. “But I’m doing it, anyway. You’re not trying to tell me that you won’t let me stay here, are you?” In fact, that was exactly what Neku was trying to say. Yes, some irrational part of him had missed Joshua, but there was a big difference between wanting to see someone every now and then and wanting to live with that person, especially when said person had caused likely irreversible trauma. Nonetheless, Neku was having some trouble turning Joshua down outright. Leaving someone, _anyone_ , without a place to stay felt wrong to him. 

“I don’t take up much room,” offered Joshua with a sly smile. Neku severely doubted that.

“How… how would I even convince my parents to let you stay here?” he asked, still grasping for some reason to keep Joshua out.

“I can be rather persuasive,” said Joshua.

“You can’t Imprint my parents,” said Neku flatly.

“Is that impolite?” asked Joshua. He shrugged. “Very well, then. I’ll just have to dial up my natural charms.” Neku didn’t notice that his jaw had gone slack until he saw Joshua shoot him a theatrically wounded look. “I _am_ a charming person, Neku.”

“You _are_ an asshole, Joshua,” grumbled Neku. Why, exactly, had he wanted to see Joshua again?

“Now, now,” chided Joshua. “You might want to be a touch more agreeable with your new roommate.”

“Who says that my parents will even let you stay here?” countered Neku, full of confidence that he could still come out the winner in this one.

He was sadly mistaken. Neku’s parents, when they got back home, were, surprisingly, quite taken with Joshua. More taken, Neku resentfully noted, than they seemed with their own son. Joshua must have picked up on some of that resentment, because as he was shaking Mr. Sakuraba’s hand, he glanced back at Neku and smiled in that infuriating way he did so well. Neku’s brow furrowed so low that it almost covered his eyes.

“Neku, why have we never met Joshua before?” asked Mrs. Sakuraba. Neku wanted to tell her that neither she nor his father had expressed interest in meeting any of his friends since he had finished primary school, and even then they hadn't seemed terribly eager about it. Not only would it be true, but it also might knock her out of whatever rose-colored haze Joshua had cast over her, and force her to realize that Joshua was not, in fact, a nice, polite boy, but rather a charming but manipulative deity. Well, maybe she wouldn't have realized _all_ that from just taking a closer look , but she probably would have noticed that he was a stranger and that his so-called friend didn’t even want him in the house. But Neku said nothing of the sort. Knowing Joshua, he probably had some backup plan that was even more detestable than the current one.

“He’s been out of town for a while,” answered Neku. _Or out of dimension_ , he didn't add.

“My family travels,” explained Joshua, smiling. “It’s fascinating, but this time, I begged them to stay in Shibuya. I missed my friends too much.” For just a second, Neku caught himself wondering if there was some iota of truth in there. Did Joshua really come back because he missed Neku? It seemed far too human a sentiment for him.

“Where did they head off to?” asked Mr. Sakuraba. “I’ve always been interested in travel.” This piece of information stunned Neku. To his knowledge, his father had never taken time off of work to go anywhere, or to do anything at all, for that matter.

“Belize,” said Joshua easily, and all of Neku’s ideas of him telling some partial truth were dispelled. Joshua was capable of lying quickly and without remorse. Neku should have known it earlier.

“Belize…” said Mr. Sakuraba, and there was even a hint of dreaminess to his voice. He smiled and laughed. This was strange. Neku wasn’t used to his parents being anything but severe and short with words. “And you chose to stay here?”

“There comes a point when you just want to get away from the excitement,” explained Joshua. “Be with people you care about.” He looked at Neku with a smile Neku might have called warm if he had believed Joshua's act for even a second. He stared resolutely at his dinner, hating the slight warmth creeping into his face.

“He’s so mature, Neku,” said Mrs. Sakuraba approvingly, even though she herself spent hardly any time with her son and husband. “Of course he can stay here.” Neku just nodded silently. He’d felt a little tug in his chest at Joshua’s words, but he was resisting it. Words didn’t mean much coming from a habitual liar.

“Where will he sleep?” protested Neku before he could stop himself. Joshua dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.

“I’m sure that we can arrange something, Neku,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Mr. Sakuraba. She looked towards Joshua and beamed. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Neku crossed his arms and scowled at Joshua, who cheerily waved in return. Mr. and Mrs. Sakuraba were so obviously and uncharacteristically enamored with him, it seemed that Joshua must have used _some_ sort of imprinting on them. Still, Neku said nothing more on the matter. He didn’t speak during dinner while Joshua and his parents made pleasant conversation. He didn’t speak after dinner, either, and although it seemed that the other Sakurabas did not notice his lack of participation, Joshua certainly did. He glanced over at Neku periodically throughout the night, his expression growing less irritatingly smug and more contemplative as the minutes ticked by. The change did nothing to relieve Neku’s vexation. In fact, Joshua’s thoughtfulness was even more annoying than his smirk. It was more condescending, like Neku was some lower being he was studying. Which, when it came down to it, Neku guessed he was, but no one liked to be thought of that way.

As the Sakuraba parents readied themselves for bed, Joshua followed Neku quietly into his room. The instant the door closed behind him, the interrogation began.

“Are you angry at me, Neku?” he asked. But it didn't sound like he was _concerned_ for Neku, so much as _intrigued_ by his specimen’s behavior.

“Yes, Joshua,” said Neku flatly.

“Why would that be?” asked Joshua. “I played by your rules: I didn’t imprint your parents. I asked for permission to stay here and received it through legitimate means. What reason could you possibly have for being upset with me?”

“Please,” scoffed Neku. “You didn’t play by my rules. You don’t play by anyone’s rules but your own.”

“Well,” said Joshua, that ever-infuriating smirk tugging at his lips again. “I am the Composer. A god-complex isn’t a complex when you’re actually a god.”

“Not here, you’re not,” argued Neku, his anger lending him a surge of new-found confidence. If Joshua thought he was getting out of this on a technicality, he was dead wrong. How could Neku ever have wanted to see this… this brat again? “This is my world, not yours. And maybe it's not much, but it's mine. You come in here, and you act like you’re entitled to a spot in my life. Like you can just, just go through what’s mine and pick through it and decide what you want and what you don't, and what you're going to manipulate so it works for you. People don’t like that, Joshua.” Joshua merely offered one of his patented so-sue-me shrugs.

“Fine,” he said. “What do _you_ want from _me_ , Neku?” Neku hesitated. Licked his drying lips.

“I want to go through what’s yours, the same way you did to me,” he said, voice wavering slightly. He hoped that Joshua wouldn't pick up on it, but Joshua laughed, he knew that chance was out the door.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in my apartment,” said Joshua. “I'm waltzed into your territory unarmed; all I brought with me is the shirt on my back. I don’t suppose you want that, do you?” Neku shook his head.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said. For a fraction of a second, Joshua’s pupils widened by just a few hairs, but Neku couldn’t be sure that he had actually seen anything once it was over.

“Oh,” he said. “So you want to scan me, then? You should have just said so, Neku. Very well. Do you have your player pin?” Of course Neku had his player pin. It had been in his pocket when he woke up in the Real Ground, strangely cold and distinctly un-magical amongst the coins and gum. As much as it reminded him of the hell he’d been through, Neku couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. It reminded him that those three weeks of hell hadn't just happened in his head when his friends weren't around to reassure him of it. He walked over to his sock drawer and pulled out the disk of metal and plastic.

“I’m not a part of the Game anymore,” said Neku. “Will it still work?”

“If you focus hard enough,” said Joshua. “I’ll help you out, though. Do you feel that?” The pin grew warmer in Neku’s hand. The world became slightly clearer and Neku’s palm tingled. It was a rush that Neku hadn’t noticed when he was playing the Game, the jolt that accompanied accessing things that were usually sealed off. Neku gulped and nodded. “All right, then. Close your eyes and open up.” His eyes already closed, Neku screwed up his face at Joshua's choice of wording. Joshua giggled. “Your mind, Neku.”

Neku nodded and tried to remember what it was like to scan people in the UG. Now that he wasn’t in the habit of scanning people anymore, and it didn't feel like something he could drag up by way of pure muscle memory. He realized that he couldn’t even recall what, exactly, it was like to be able to read another person’s mind. The experience felt like a word that was just on the tip of his tongue, waiting for something to push it into being. He hadn’t noticed until now just how much that sensation of almost-knowing had been bothering him. He heard Joshua sigh and then felt a surge of energy funnel through the pin in his hand. Suddenly it all came back to him, and before he had the chance to appreciate the sensation, he was bombarded with images so vivid they might have belonged to him.

Neku didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t scanned anyone in a while or because he was trying to scan the Power-that-Was himself, but he didn’t have the same control now that he'd had when he was a player. The thoughts poured straight into his mind unfiltered and unintelligable until, suddenly, he could feel Joshua shifting the stream in a certain direction.

_He was only five, and he knew already that he was special. Or, he hoped that this was specialness and not something bad. He could see these people no one else could see, even talk to them if he wanted to. But he knew that he shouldn’t – his parents didn’t like it when he told them about these people. They said that they weren’t real even though he knew that they were. They wouldn’t even let him talk about them, they tried to make him stop thinking about them, stop seeing them. But he couldn't. So he stopped talking about them…_

_He was older now, and though he hadn’t spoken of it in years (not to friends, family, doctors, anyone), they were still there. He knew now that they weren't alive in the traditional sense, and that they were trying to regain their existences in the dimension he inhabited. But he could barely understand why they would ever want to come back to life. Their world seemed so much more exciting. It was so wildly different from his own, in vivid shades of blue and red and yellow and everything in between. The world that he inhabited was an examination of the grey scale, a dreary prison that suffocated him more and more each day…_

_He was done living with his parents when a splash of color –_ living _color –_ _spread over the pages of his life like spilled paint. The darkest corners of his world became vibrant, flat grey spaces filled with bright shades and textures he had never seen outside of that other dimension. Over and over, a name played in his head like it was on loop, lighting up the dark…_

But Neku felt Joshua steering him away from that, felt his stomach lurch as he was pulled from that particular stream of consciousness.

_It was the December of his twenty-first year when he slumped over the empty, off-white basin of his bathtub. He didn’t know why he was bothering to stay off the milky tiles of the floor, but it didn’t seem fitting to let himself make a mess of this. Didn't seem fitting to leave a mark on this world that he'd never done much more than drift through. Except, of course, for that short time where he'd deceived himself into seeing something more. How long had that lasted again? Months? Years? It didn't matter now. It had been over for a month, and his insides had gone as cold as the frost-covered signposts that lined the streets. Everything was flat again. Grey and devoid of texture. But there had never really been anything else for him, just tricks of the light that made him believe this realm was anything less than a prison._

_He told himself that it would be quick, that once it was over he would be on the other side, where the neon people and rapid heartbeats had given him something to believe in. He told himself this, but he bit his lip as the blade slid along the river of his vein. His body shook as the red welled up and warmed his cool skin. It was the first color he had seen in weeks…_

The memory made Neku's own blood run cold, and he couldn't tell if it was one Joshua had meant to show him or let slip. The next stream of images moved too quickly for Neku's reeling mind to grab hold of, devolving into a meaningless string of colors and lights and sounds – he had to collect himself to dive back in.

_Everything about this process was painful in a way that he never would have been able to comprehend before. The light was so bright that it seared his eyes and flooded through his eyelids and into his brain even when he closed them. His breath, his blood, his guts, his very essence was twisted into some new and inconceivable shape. Over the last few weeks, he had proven himself to be the most powerful player in the Game, but this force was enough to bring him to his knees and crush his chest enough that he could barely breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In… scream and scream until his throat burned and tore itself apart. Change was always difficult, even when he welcomed it with open arms._

_But when he opened his eyes again, he could see everything…_

_Even though he had moved past breathing, some vestigial human part of him saw fit to gasp for air. Either his mind was racing too quickly to examine this behavior or it had vacated the premises all together, because for once in his death, he wasn’t thinking at all. Just feeling. Fistfuls of shirt in his hands, heat in his chest, lips on his lips, moaning, pulsing, wanting. He wished that he hadn’t worn a shirt with buttons – it was slowing down the whole process far too much – but the hands undoing them were skilled, and before long his chest was bare._

_His unnecessary breath hitched as rough hands wrapped around his wrists, covering the scars that even divine transformation had left untouched. He wasn’t in control anymore, and he didn’t care. Was that because he trusted him too much, or just because he wanted him so badly? The question flitted across his stream of consciousness for just an instant before lips engulfed his own again. The stubble would make his face burn later, but the idea was somehow appealing – he craved it. There were still too many clothes involved in this situation, too many layers in the way. Too much sensation he had missed out on for so long, because even when he got what he wanted it was never what he wanted, not really. He deserved this. He wanted to believe that he deserved this. He opened his eyes and reached up to pull Sanae's sunglasses from his face…_

There was a sudden screech like feedback in Neku’s brain – loud and startling and completely unwelcome. The images that had been streaming through his mind dispersed like smoke when a gust comes through, and the pain was actively trying to cleave his head in two. Neku squeezed his eyes even tighter and clutched at his skull, letting the player pin drop from his hand and clatter onto the floor. Immediately, the sound disappeared, leaving only a phantom ringing in his ears. The pain slowly let up. Tentatively, he opened his looked at Joshua, breathless and wide-eyed. Joshua looked almost as thrown off as Neku felt with his left hand clutching at his collarbone as his right curled protectively around his wrist. Had Joshua just forced him out?

After a few seconds, Neku’s breathing resumed a normal pace and all that remained of the mental feedback was the slight nausea Neku tended to get whenever he was hurting. He wasn’t on the live feed anymore, but the last images, the ones that had been playing when Joshua had pushed him way, repeated in his head in far greater detail than he was entirely comfortable with. Now that he wasn’t in pain anymore, the gears in Neku's brain began to turn.

“You were…” Neku began, but he had to shake his head and start over again (though he had kind of hoped he would shake the images out altogether). “You and… and Mr. Hanekoma?”

“I didn’t mean to let you go there,” said Joshua.. Like that was an explanation at all, let alone a reasonable one. He swallowed. “I, I didn't want you to see that.”

“You and Mr. Hanekoma?” repeated Neku, because every second he didn't speak was a second he had to fight to keep his jaw off the floor.

“Our relationship is of a…” started Joshua. His body trembled slightly, his fingers worrying at his left wrist. He was fumbling for words, but Neku couldn’t manage to enjoy his lack of composure. He just wanted answers. “…slightly different nature than I may have let on.”

“But,” said Neku, and now it was his turn to frantically search for words. “But, but – he’s a _grownup._ ”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten, Neku, but I’m a little older than I look,” said Joshua, straightening his spine and managing a more confident tone than he had before. “I am not a child. I can handle myself.” But the way he said it sounded wrong. Almost too sure, like he was trying to prove something. Like a five-year-old declaring himself as “big kid” when someone tried to ruffle his hair. Neku struggled for the right words to communicate his thoughts, but ultimately failed because his thoughts weren't that coherent, either. A few of the other mental images floated across the path of his inner eye: the greyness of the world, the brightness of the UG, the red splashing across Joshua’s white skin. Even knowing they weren't his own memories, they still beat with his heart as if they belonged to him, at least a little bit.

“Joshua…” he started.

“It’s getting late,” said Joshua, cutting him off. Which was probably just as well, because Neku had no idea what he wanted to say. Not an apology, he told himself resolutely. He wasn't the one who needed to apologize. Was he? Either way, Joshua had already closed himself off again. He crossed his arms tightly. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

“Bed?” asked Neku. “You don’t _have_ a…” This time it was utter bewilderment that stopped Neku mid-sentence, as Joshua had crawled under the covers of _his_ bed, jeans and button‑down shirt and everything (Neku furiously avoided thinking about the hands that had been on Joshua's shirt buttons), and closed his eyes. Neku thought for a few seconds about speaking his mind: saying that no, no, this was absolutely not okay, that Joshua had crossed more than his fair share of boundaries and that he had to draw the line somewhere. But it _was_ getting late, and he didn’t think that he had the energy to try to reason with someone who invaded people’s beds without the slightest hesitation. So he changed into his pajamas, made up a bed on the floor with extra blankets, and fell asleep.

His slumber was light and fluttery, his dreams full of brightly colored people whose flesh turned intangible upon attempted contact, of razor blades the glinted not quite brightly enough to make the real world feel alive, with gunshots that made his ears ring and his heart pound. Blood ran from the hole in his chest and the gash on his wrist and his eyes flew open. Neku he thought that, in the sudden nighttime quiet, he heard a whisper of “I’m sorry,” but he could have just as easily dreamed it.

  



	3. With Friends Like These...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua goes to school with Neku, which is just... great. Later, they meet up with the rest of the gang, where everyone is just SUPER excited to see Joshua.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I'll work on fixing up this chapter while I'm already on a roll! shouldn't take me longer than a week or two, tops!  
> me, three months later: ummmmmmmmm....

There was no Composer-shaped lump under the bedcovers when Neku’s alarm woke him up the next morning. For a few minutes, Neku blearily ran his hand through his tangled hair and wondered if any of it had happened at all. A twinge shot through his back and he quickly came to the conclusion that if he had dreamed up the whole scenario, he probably wouldn’t have been sleeping in a pile of blankets on the floor. He sat up and twisted to the right so that half his vertebrae cracked and clicked like dominoes and revised that thought: he _definitely_ wouldn’t have been sleeping on the floor unless that asshole had kicked him out of his own bed.

So where the hell was Joshua? Had he only planned on staying with Neku for one night? That didn’t seem exactly fair to do without informing his host, but Joshua wasn't really known for playing fair. Besides, why should Neku care if he left? After everything that had happened since Joshua had popped back into his life, he should have felt relieved that Joshua seemed to have disappeared without warning. Sure, Neku had died and gone through things that no one on this plane would have believed except the people who went through it with hit, but the world had reverted to its normal state of order when he was revived. Same streets, same people, same signs. Same silent, emotionally checked out parents. Different friends, but it was normal for a kid Neku’s age to change up the social scene occasionally. Or, well, to actually _gain_ a social scene, seemingly out of nowhere to bystanders like his parents. Neku’s life was leveling out, he was getting some sense of normalcy and stability he had never really had, and Joshua… Joshua wasn’t helping with that.

But Neku was starting to think that maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world. Something about his life going back to normal so quickly didn’t feel quite right to him. Because it wasn't normal, it wasn't at all. There was this unspoken history between the group. Aside from his occasional Game-related conversations with Shiki, no one really mentioned the time they spent being dead. Or at least, they didn’t discuss it with one another. If the others were having nightmares or panic attacks or occasional flashbacks, no one said anything about it. When they were together, they were so caught up in being (acting like?) normal kids that Neku couldn’t find a place to step in and say, “Hey, remember that time I got shot and we all died? And then we ran around in a different dimensional plane and almost disappeared and I got shot again? Yeah, those were the good old days.” It didn’t help that being with Shiki usually meant being around Eri, too. Not that Neku disliked Eri; they were even becoming friends little by little. And even if her incessant stream of chatter sometimes felt like a hammer on his eardrums, it was obvious that she made Shiki really happy, so her presence was worth it. It was just that she didn’t know anything about the Game, or even that Shiki had died, so bringing it up would have been awkward, to say the least.

Neku could tell that Shiki wasn’t exactly keen on talking about their time in the afterlife anymore, either. Usually when Neku brought the subject up, she said a brief sentence on the matter, at most, and then switched the topic to something more lighthearted. He had been surprised by her willingness to talk about Joshua the other day until he realized that there were two topics she couldn't resist talking about: fashion, and relationships. Especially romantic ones, which never felt quite fair because she tended to hand-wave her own. What was even more unfair was that Shiki was so sure about the nature of his and Joshua's relationship when even Neku didn't know what was going on. But that was all beside the point, because it assumed that he and Joshua even _had_ meaningful relationship in the first place.

But other than discussing Joshua, it appeared that Shiki was entirely content with letting the events of the Game pass quietly from her mind. Rhyme and Beat were the same way, with Beat lowering his voice every time Neku made some passing reference to his time as a Reaper and Rhyme simply quoting adages about seizing the day. And with the trauma they'd all been through, Neku could understand that, but he couldn't just let it go. Maybe he didn't want to.

At the same time, holding onto those memories was more difficult than Neku would have guessed. In spite of all the ways the Game still still affected him, he had trouble consciously accessing the details. Now that life was reverting to its previous patterns, it felt like it hadn't happened to him at all. Except when he was waking up in cold sweats or occasionally panicking at the scramble, he barely felt present in his own memories. The threads were slipping through his fingers and that terrified him. All that Neku could do to keep from losing hold was to take the closest loose thread and wrap it tight in his fist, refusing to let go even though it burned his skin. It just so happened that the thread burning his palm was Joshua. Joshua was the big mystery, the unanswered question. The unanswered _questions_. Every single one of them.

When Joshua had approached him yesterday, it had felt like some kind of strange dream, like some piece of his hazy memories had stepped right out onto the street. After a moment or two of grounding, though, Neku had begun to think that this might be his only chance for the answers he was looking for. He'd never been sure why he couldn’t let go of the worst three weeks of his not-life, but at least Joshua might be able to provide some kind of closure for him. But Joshua, of course, was still his old flippant self, deflecting questions and allegations left and right. He didn't even have an answer for the one question Neku cared about the most, the one he needed to hear answered – _“Do you even feel sorry for what you did?”_ Being allowed into parts of Joshua's mind (and ending up in places he wasn't supposed to be) only made matters more confusing. Now there were even more questions Neku wanted answered, plus ones he didn't want answered, plus ones he knew he couldn't ask. None of this was going the way he wanted it to, but hey, that was just like Joshua, wasn't it?

Maybe Neku had thought about him too loudly, because Joshua strode into the room like he had heard his name called. Which, all things considered, was wholly possible. Something in Neku felt bad about thinking that, though, after what had happened between them last night. Luckily, any guilt he felt disappeared once he realized that Joshua was wearing one of his school uniforms.

“ _What_ are you doing in that?” asked Neku, already exhausted despite having woken up less than thirty minutes ago.

“You have three guesses,” said Joshua, cricking a lip. _You thought it would give you a bonus to defense._ _You tried it on to see how it would look on you. You’re trying to make me squirm._ Neku thought that the last one was entirely plausible, but unfortunately less probable than his fourth guess.

“You can’t just show up at my school,” he said out loud, hoping that Joshua wouldn't hear the pleading note in his voice. “You have to take entrance exams. They have to accept you. They have to know that you’re going there.”

“Neku, Neku, Neku,” said Joshua, shaking his head. “Why must you consistently underestimate me? Do I not always get what I want?” He was acting like the same old Joshua: self-centered, stuck up, talking like people were little dollhouse figurines that he could pick up and move for his convenience. After having read his memories last night, Neku knew for a fact that Joshua did not always get what he wanted. But judging by how Joshua was talking right now, he was planning on sweeping the whole interaction under the rug and continuing as though nothing had happened. He was going to go on with his I-run-this-world attitude, pushing people around as it suited him. And Neku was beginning to realize that there was nothing he could do about it. As tragic as Joshua's history may have been (and Neku knew he had only seen a _sliver_ of what was in there), it didn't change the fact that he would twist things until they were to his liking.

“Fine,” he said dully. Strangely enough, his apathy appeared to spark a reaction in Joshua: he pursed his lips and his right eyebrow shot up high.

“Oh?” asked Joshua. “Really?” Neku shrugged.

“Why bother arguing?” he said. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” Joshua’s eyes scanned over Neku’s face, which remained completely impassive.

“Well, then,” said Joshua, evidently having decided that the point wasn't worth pressing. Neku couldn't have seen why it would've mattered to him in the first place. “Shall we go?”

“It’s up to you, Joshua,” said Neku, voice flatter than a dead man’s heart monitor. “You’re in charge.” Again, he could see the effects of his complacency in Joshua's face. Joshua opened his mouth only to quickly close it and adopt a more pleased expression, like a cat who had just knocked over a glass and was very, very happy with himself. He had let his guard down, though. Just for a half-second, but he had let his guard down. Neku couldn't help but feel a little pang of smugness of his own.

“To school it is, then,” said Joshua. He headed for the door and tossed Neku one of his “winning” smiles over his shoulder. “Wonderful! And I’ll get to meet all of your friends, too. How exciting!” Neku narrowed his eyes. That smile was nothing but pure mockery, it had to be. If, as Neku heavily suspected, Joshua had been keeping tabs on him since the game, then he would know that Neku still didn't really have friends at school. Sure, he had made a lot of headway with his friends from the Game, but his classmates still saw him as the withdrawn, standoffish kid he had been before. Not that he had been doing a lot to change that perception. Still, it was a bit of a sore spot. Neku reminded himself that this was Joshua, though, and that Joshua was intent on pushing and all of his buttons to get a rise out of him. He nodded evenly.

“Sure,” he said, mildly comforted by the knowledge that at least he wouldn’t have to introduce Joshua to any of his non-existent school friends friends.

Naturally, because Joshua drew misfortune to Neku like some kind of oddly specific magnet, Neku's classmates were roughly a thousand percent more interested in being around him today than they were on Friday. The asshole had already shot him twice; would it really be too much to ask that he not ruin _solitude_ for Neku? (Yes, Joshua's voice told him in his head, that was too much to ask.) No one had looked at Neku twice since primary school, but now his classmates swarmed his desk like sharks drawn to a single drop of blood, all asking about his _friend_ was and whether or not Neku was going to introduce him. If Neku had foreseen this, he would have imagined that most of the crowd would comprise almost entirely of girls, but the silver snarker was an instant hit with Neku's classmates regardless of gender.

After what felt like the thirtieth time introducing Joshua – this time to a girl whose dark hair was always curled into perfect ringlets – Neku retorted with a snappish, “Why don’t you just ask him yourself?” The girl gave him an offended look (which Neku couldn't really blame her for) and huffed off to join the flock of admirers surrounding Joshua the next desk over. Irritated that he couldn't drown out the chatter with his headphones, Neku settled for sketching absentmindedly in his notebook. That was the great thing about drawing – sometimes Neku could get so lost in the process that he could keep putting down without knowing where he was going with them, letting the quieter parts of his mind take over. Two lips lifted into a knowing smile, the gentle curve of a cheek, hair with a gentle curl, and… goddammit, of _course_ he was drawing Joshua. Because this day wouldn't let go until it had wrung every drop of dignity out of Neku's body. He growled under his breath and crushed the paper into a ball.

At this point, Joshua had at least half the students in the class gathered around his desk whenever a teacher wasn't admonishing them for it, plus sometimes when a teacher _was_ admonishing them for it. He had stuck with bullshit story about his parents being world travelers and was currently expounding upon his adventures in southern Spain with the sort of cool confidence of someone far too well versed in lying. The crowd hung on his every word, so enraptured that Neku could practically see the cartoon hearts in their eyes. If they only knew the truth… he would probably find some way to make them like him, anyway. Joshua had even managed to keep Neku, who fully knew his game but lacked the bullet wounds to show it, on the hook. His parents, the students in his class – these poor people didn’t know what had hit them. The thought made Neku’s stomach churn.

Though, if Neku was going to be honest with himself, his unease was probably less about the noble desire to protect others from Joshua than he would admit out loud. Joshua so effortlessly charmed every person he met. Now, amongst Neku's classmates, all he had to do to keep his audience engaged was cast one of his all-too-familiar smiles in a fan's direction every once in a while. It left Neku feeling gross, and a little cold, somehow. Unsettled. He couldn’t put a finger on why he was feeling like this until he realized that what Joshua was really doing was flirting with these people. Flirting, like Shiki said he had been flirting with Neku during the game.

And if Joshua was flirting with these people he had just meant, then maybe Shiki was wrong, and the way he had spoken to Neku meant nothing at all. No interest, no crush, no underlying feelings. He was just toying with Neku the same way that he toyed with everyone else. Come to think of it, maybe he hadn’t even come back for Neku at all. Maybe he just wanted to spend some time seducing the innocent. There was a sourness in Neku’s stomach that bit like bile: anger, disappointment, jealousy? But that would've been silly. It shouldn’t matter to him whether or not Joshua was paying attention to other people, and he knew it. Neku turned his eyes back towards his paper, smoothing it out again over his desk and erasing the starting lines of Joshua’s face. The paper, already stressed and weakened from its wrinkles, tore with with a particularly vigorous eraser rub. He groaned in the back of his throat and didn’t say a word to Joshua for the rest of the school day.

“You know, Neku,” said Joshua after what felt like an extremely long and exhausting school day to Neku. “If you don’t want people to know what you’re thinking, you shouldn’t be so obvious about it. Brooding all day, sulking in silence instead of basking appreciatively in my glow like any normal person would've done.”

“What would _you_ know about normal people?” snapped Neku, his cheeks reddening.

“Scathing,” said Joshua, rolling his eyes. “Really, Neku, you might as well come out and say it. It’s not as though you’re hiding anything from me, anyway.” No, under no circumstances was Neku going to do that. He wasn’t going to give Joshua the satisfaction of admitting out that he wanted the attention. But the words built up behind his tongue, pressure increasing so steadily that by the time Neku opened his mouth, a whole sentence rushed out.

“Did you really come back here for me?” It came out painfully, cringe-inducingly vulnerable, but that haughty expression dropped from Joshua’s face in an instant. His lavender eyes widened, his ash-blonde brows raised. It was like Neku had punched him in the stomach, not asked him a question. In that same moment, Neku’s phone buzzed, alerting him that he had a new text message. Without waiting for Joshua to answer his question (and not sure if he could handle any answer Joshua would give), Neku dug through his pocket and flipped open his phone.

“ _Wanna meet up? Usual spot. R/B may show.”_ It was from Shiki. Neku looked back up at Joshua. His arms were folded across his chest and his top teeth were biting his lower lip.

“You can't just do anything you want,” mumbled Neku, feeling something like a broken record, before typing “okay” and pressing the send button. He sighed and pocketed his phone. “We’re going to Hachiko.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re meeting your friend Shiki?” asked Joshua.

“You remember her,” said Neku. _You put her through hell,_ he didn't add. “Rhyme and Beat might show, too. Their school is further away, though, so it’ll take them a while to get here. Are you ever going to answer any of my questions?” Joshua hadn’t even opened his mouth when Shiki appeared on the horizon, her redheaded best friend in tow. The laughter of the two girls mixed with the sounds of cars and carried down the busy street. Joshua offered nothing more than a noncommittal shrug.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Eri…” said Shiki as she approached Neku, but her sentence trailed off as her lens-covered eyes caught sight of the extra boy in Neku’s party. “But I guess you brought a friend, too.” Joshua dialed up the charm, smiling and holding out his hand. Some sick part of Neku felt a deep satisfaction knowing that, at least, Joshua couldn't win _Shiki_ over. Or at least he would hope not. After what they had been through, Shiki would know better.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced,” said Joshua. “Yoshiya Kiryu, but you can call me Joshua.” Something happened behind the plastic of Shiki’s thick glasses where at least twenty different emotions were reflected in her eyes: recognition, shock, awe, interest, and not a small amount of sheer horror crossed her face. For a second, she looked like she might throw up, which Neku could fully understand. It was one thing to talk about Joshua, but completely another to be faced with him in person.

“Shiki Misaki,” said Shiki once the green tinge had faded slightly from her skin. “And this is my friend, Eri.”

“Hiya,” said Eri, waving her fingers and smiling brightly. But as she looked to her friend, the corners of her mouth turned down into a slight frown. “Are you okay, Shiki? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” said Shiki, anxiously pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She didn’t look like she was “fine,” and Neku felt guilt, cold and heavy, in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t even imagined that Shiki would have such a negative reaction to seeing Joshua. Though, now that he thought of it, he really should have planned this better. He had been so desperate to shake the rest of the day off that he hadn't even thought to warn her ahead of time that Joshua would be there.

“Shiki—” he said, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she said again, this time more firmly. She put on what looked very much like a forced smile. “So, Joshua, did you come to visit Neku?” Joshua briefly flicked his eyes towards Neku.

“Yes,” he said. His lips curved up, but the expression was thin and weak and distinctly un-Joshua. “Six months is a long time to go without seeing such a close friend. Too long, don't you think?”

“So…” said Eri, clearly trying to alleviate the obvious tension of the conversation. She put on another winning face. “How do you two know each other, Neku?” She moved seamlessly, glossing over the awkwardness as if it had never been there. Eri's charm had always reminded Neku a little bit of Joshua, actually, minus the poison edge.

“Oh, us?” asked Neku, wracking his brain for a plausible lie. Unfortunately, the only one that kept flashing through his head was, inexplicably, _“We met at_ _a_ _sky diving class last year.”_ He settled instead on a simple, “We go way back.”

“You could say that we met in a past life,” said Joshua, his voice regaining its usual timbre. Joshua always _was_ more confident when he had a secret. Neku stifled a bit of a laugh at Eri's blank, wide-eyed expression, and even Shiki held a hand to her lips to cover a giggle.

“I don’t get it,” said Eri earnestly. From the few times Neku had interacted with her, he had gathered that she wasn't fond of being out of the loop. But the break in tension was such a relief that Neku couldn't bring himself to feel too sorry. “What’s so funny?”

“Eri…” said Shiki, who was rapidly dissolving into laughter. “Your face…” Eri quickly closed her mouth and scowled.

“Ha ha ha,” she drawled. “Let’s all laugh at Eri now. At least none of you look like you’re going to pass out or be sick anymore.” Still laughing, Shiki wrapped her arms around her glaring friend, pulling her into an embrace. After a second, Eri softened and returned the hug, smiling down at the top of Shiki's head.

“Hey, Shiki,” said Neku, who suddenly found his face a little warm, and who felt a vague need to look away. “Are Beat and Rhyme coming, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Shiki. “They should be getting here any minute now.”

“Speak of the devil,” said Eri, looking over her shoulder to see the pair approaching. Well, they were both approaching, but they weren’t exactly a pair. Beat was traveling at a dead run at least twenty feet ahead of his sister, who strolled behind him at a much more casual pace, her hands in her pockets.

“Haste makes waste, Beat,” she said, just loudly enough that the four at the statue could hear her. Neku noticed that she sounded a bit congested, not entirely over her cold.

“You didn’t start the party without us, didja?” yelled Beat. “Hey, did Neku bring somebo—” About four paces from the group, Beat stopped dead in his tracks, the smile dropping off his face.“What’s the prissy kid doing here?”

“Hello, Beat,” said Joshua, waving a hand obliviously. It had to be feigned obliviousness, though; there was no way Joshua could be missing the waves of antipathy coming off the skater. “I didn’t think you would remember me.”

“Wish I didn’t,” answered Beat tersely. Rhyme finally caught up to her older brother.

“I wish you wouldn’t run ahead of me like that,” she said. “Hi, everyone! Neku, who’s your friend?”

“I’m Joshua,” said Joshua, holding out his hand for Rhyme. Ever courteous, Rhyme smiled pleasantly and shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Rhyme, and this is my brother, Beat.”

“Oh, your brother and I are already acquainted,” said Joshua. Beat glared at him.

“ _Acquainted_ my ass, you—”

“Beat!” said Neku sharply. Face still an angry shade of red, Beat turned his furious gaze towards Neku. “Not now.”

“Shiki, who is this guy?” asked Eri quietly.

“Ummm…” replied Shiki. “He’s… Joshua?”

“I seem to have caused a bit of a disturbance,” noted Joshua, placing his hand beneath his chin.

“That ain’t even—” started Beat, but Neku shot him a look. Obviously still frustrated, Beat took a fistful of Neku’s shirt in his fist and pulled him closer, so that he could see every ounce of rage in Beat’s eyes. “Phones, can I talk to you?” Beat glanced around before pointing a finger at the door of Sunshine Burger. “Over there?” Neku sighed.

“Sure, Beat,” he said. Still holding onto his handful of fabric, Beat yanked Neku through the crowds and towards Sunshine Burger. Looking over one shoulder at his sister, he yelled:

“Don’t talk to ’im, Rhyme!”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Beat!” Rhyme called back, chiding.

“I ain’t judgin’ him by his cover!” shouted Beat. “It’s his guts and…” He let out a sigh and lowered his volume. “Ah, never mind. Phones, we gotta talk about this.”

“Go ahead,” said Neku reluctantly.

“What’s he doin’ here, man?” asked Beat.

“I don’t really know,” admitted Neku. “I was walking by the Udagawa mural and he just kind of showed up. He said that he wanted to visit me. I don’t know why, or how long he’s going to be staying in my house—”

“Hang on a sec,” interrupted Beat. “He’s in your house?” Neku nodded. “You crazy, Phones? You remember what this kid did, right? He was gonna blow up Shibuya!”

“No one said anything about blowing it up,” Neku pointed out, but he had to admit Beat’s argument was shockingly sound.

“Whatever,” said Beat. “You get what I mean. He ain’t a good guy.” Neku thought about that statement for a minute. Joshua probably wasn’t a good guy. He was controlling and manipulative and generally exhibited an alarming number of Bad Person traits. Neku would know, having been murdered by the guy twice over. Joshua wasn’t a good guy. This wasn’t news; Neku had known it since the end of the Game. Maybe it was even in his nature, what with being a minor deity and all. How could a god be anything but controlling? But Neku had let Joshua back into his life, anyway, and not just because it was inevitable. In some place tucked deep into the corners of his mind, he’d been _wishing_ Joshua back into his life for the past six months, knowing full well that Joshua was, in all likelihood, not a good person (or, for that matter, really even a at all person anymore).

“I know that,” said Neku. Beat’s eyes widened, and Neku considered briefly that it may have been the first time he’d ever won an argument. He continued: “He’s not a good person. Probably, at least. But… but he’s still a part of our lives, you know?” Slowly, Beat shook his head.

“Naw, man,” he said. “Not mine.” An idea struck Neku: maybe that was true. For Beat, and for Shiki, as well. Joshua wasn’t a part of their lives anymore. When confronted with Joshua after six months, Neku had quickly accepted him back into his world. Joshua didn’t _take_ a spot in his life, Neku had given it to him, saved a place while he was gone. Shiki and Beat had reacted so strongly because they hadn’t invited him in, hadn’t expected him. There wasn't really a place for him in their carefully maintained worlds. Joshua was jarringly out of place for them.

For Neku…

“Right,” said Neku. “I’m sorry. I wasn't thinking about you guys when I invited him along. Do you want me to keep him away from you guys?”

“You ain’t kickin’ him out?” asked Beat. “I don’t like the sound of that, man.”

“I know it’s stupid,” said Neku. He struggled to find the right words, words that could somehow make Beat understand what he was feeling. Neku wasn’t sure if that was even possible, though, considering that he himself didn’t understand what he was feeling. “But I’m just not ready to let him go. I think he's still got a place in my world, at least for right now.” Beat took a second, bit his lip, and finally nodded.

“Yeah, I get it,” he said. His face screwed up a little bit. “I think. Just… watch your back, ’kay, Phones?”

“Every second of every day,” muttered Neku, and by unspoken agreement, the two made their way back to the rest of the group.

“Is everything all sorted out now?” This was from Joshua, whose ever-present smirk was most likely doing him no favors in Beat’s mind. Indeed, Beat shot him dubious glance before saying anything. Then again, it could have been because he couldn’t tell whether or not Joshua was making fun of him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry ’bout that, guys. Me ’n Phones had to talk about… uh… income taxes.” Neku sighed deeply. Beat was a great guy, really, but he couldn’t tell a lie to save his life. Then again, that was probably part of what made him such a good person. Neku looked over at Joshua, at that inscrutable smile, those eyes that hid so much without forfeiting their shine. There was nothing about Joshua that Neku understood wholly. Maybe it was better that way.

“I’m starved,” said Shiki, easing right past Beat’s blatant lies. “Who wants to eat?”

“Ooh, let’s hit up Mexican Hot Dog!” suggested Eri eagerly.

“It’s so unhealthy…” said Rhyme, sneezing at the end of her sentence. Beat grabbed a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her.

“How ’bout Sunshine?” asked Beat. “Since we’re right here an’ everythin’.”

“Not such a fan,” said Joshua, holding up his hands and shaking his head.

“Oh, this new place opened up,” suggested Shiki. “Shadow Ramen, I think it was?”

“No,” said Joshua and Neku in unison.

“Might I suggest Ramen Don?” asked Joshua. He smiled at his former partner. “It _is_ a classic.” They went around the circle and universally agreed that Ramen Don was their best shot at getting some decent, non-controversial food. Neku smiled. Even if every other part of the Composer was an enigma, there was one thing Neku did know about Joshua: he was no slouch when it came to what he ate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (and ze waved goodbye saying "don't you cry; I'll be back again somedaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!")


End file.
